Planes, Tanks, and Tutus
by Sci F.I. Warper
Summary: 2010 movie verse   When a fellow Ranger asks the A-Team for help finding his kidnapped daughter.  The team has to deal with a little more chaos then they're used to.
1. Prolouge

A.N.: I'll be honest, this story mostly came from the mental images of Face realizing a kid might be useful for picking up ladies and Murdock enjoying Saturday morning cartoons. It was kind of win-win situation in my mind. Also, sorry if this prologue is a little ooc, I promise it will get better with longer chapters. Anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I am but a poor part time student. Please do not sue me.

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><p>"That's all I've got, sir."<p>

The ex-colonel stared at the vanilla envelope on the table and back at the man giving it to him. Captain Michael Barclay of the 2nd Ranger Battalion looked like a man not to be messed with. Even with the lower half of his body paralyzed by an ill-timed explosion, he still carried the air of a soldier prepared for battle. It was a quality Hannibal could admire. Reaching over, he took the envelope and pulled out the two straps of cash in it.

"You can keep the money," he said, tossing the brick-shaped collection of bills back onto the table. Captain Barclay stared at the money for a moment. Unconsciously, his grip began to tighten on the rims of his wheel chair. Something flashed darkly in his eyes as he glared up at the colonel.

"I don't want your pity, sir," he said, his tone dangerously calm, "I want you to find my daughter."

If the reaction surprised Hannibal, he didn't show. Calmly exhaling cigar smoke, he met the younger man's eyes.

"It's not pity, son," he replied after a minute, "Depending on the state we find your daughter in, you'll need the money more then we do."

This time, the colonel did feel a stab of pity as a flash of pain washed over the captain's face. Normally, Hannibal hated giving anyone, particularly clients, the odds of a mission's success. Given the captain's rank and experiences, however, he felt he owed him at least that much.

"Now, I need you to go over what you know one last time. Remember, details are everything."

Barclay nodded. Stiffening at attention, he began recounting everything he had put together about his daughter's disappearance.

"I received a call exactly one week ago," he started, his tone detached, "From Lindsey's ballet teacher. Lindsey had missed her weekly lesson and her teacher wanted to see if everything was alright. She knows about our situation..."

Hannibal frowned. As he understood it, the captain's wife had left him not long after his return from Iraq. Oddly enough, the woman had given Barclay full custody of their ten year old daughter, Lindsey, before severing all contact with the pair.

"...A classmate's mother always gives her a rides to ballet after school. Her friend had said Lindsey hadn't even made it in to class that day. A man had called that morning, claiming to be me, and told the school Lindsey was home sick. I called the police. The most they ended up doing was putting out an Amber Alert and bugging my phone. After a day I called in some favors from a couple buddies of mine. One of them put me in contact with Sandra...Lindsey's mother. Another traced the call made to the school to a cell phone number belonging to a Kevin Whitman. I put the phone's last known GPS coordinates in the envelope..."

Hannibal glanced at the envelope in his hand. Reaching in, he pulled out a small, worn out photo instead of the GPS information. The girl in the picture was about eight when it was taken. She stared up at the camera, giving it a cheerful if slightly toothless grin. Lindsey Barclay had her father's blond hair and grey-blue eyes. The matched well with herb bright blue tights and matching tutu.

"...When the police searched the location, all they found was an abandoned Civic Honda."

"That was when you received the ransom note?"

Barclay nodded.

"Sandra received a similar one at her hotel room. The kidnappers threatened to kill Lindsey if we continued our search through official channels. They didn't specify a ransom, but it was implied. Two days ago we received a call. My buddy who traced the original call did the same for this one. Arial views of the area the call originated from showed old warehouse with clear activity present over the past five days."

"And your certain their keeping your daughter there?" Hannibal asked.

"I'm not certain of anything, sir," Barclay replied, "They said they would call again in three day. The way I see it, this the only chance I-you've got to get to her."

"Only one more question, then," said Hannibal, understanding some of the logic behind the captain's decisions despite his slightly illogical conclusion, "Why us?"

"Your team has a reputation, sir," Barclay replied, "You're the best. Lindsey is all I've left. I trust fellow Rangers to bring her home safe."

Hannibal nodded.

"We'll do everything we can for her, son," he promised.

Barclay swallowed, now unable to speak. He closed his eyes trying to get a hold of himself. Giving the man a little privacy, Hannibal carefully tucked the picture back in the envelope and the envelope into his coat pocket. The time he had allotted himself to speak with Captain Barclay was drawing to a close.

"If the kidnappers call again, you can contact me or a member of my team here," he said, handing Barclay a card with the number of a prepaid cell phone. Barclay took it, tucking the card into his pocket without looking at it.

"Thank you, sir," he said. Stiffening one more time, he saluted the colonel. Hannibal returned the gesture before backing into the room's shadows.

Once out of the building, he headed towards the rental parked a couple yards away. Getting in, he hit the top number on his speed dial and started the car.

"Face," he said, "It's Hannibal. The mission's a go."

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><p>A.N. part 2: And done. Again, sorry if it's a little ooc or a little cliche. I promise there will be several bumps in the road for our boys. Hope you enjoyed it so far, however.<p> 


	2. Search and Rescue

"I don't know, Boss," said Face leaning over the quickly constructed battle plan, "This is hinging on a lot of faith. How do we even know the girl's in the warehouse? Or that this isn't some kind of elaborate trap?"

Three pairs of eyes automatically snapped questioningly in the tall man's direction. Hannibal, for his part, seemed to consider his answer carefully. Lighting his cigar, he looked over the plan as it stood. Compared to some of their other operations, this one was cut and dry. They wouldn't even have to worry about drugging B.A. (though at least three of Hannibal's back up plans called for it). Face and he would infiltrate the warehouse from the sewers. B.A. and his van would set up the initial distraction with Hannibal bringing up the rear. That would give Face time to search the rooms most suitable for holding a victim based on the blueprints they'd obtained. If he found the girl, he was to get her to the roof where Murdock would be ready for aerial pick-up. Hannibal would join B.A. in the van. If he didn't, they could at least capture or put a trace on one of the men at the warehouse. If they were lucky, they would have a lead straight to the girl.

" We've done more with less, Face," he replied, letting out a exhale of smoke, "And I doubt the D.O.D. are that creative. Captain Sosa aside."

Face smirked.

" Just as long as your certain I don't have to get the air with this crazy fool," interjected B.A., nodding his head in Murdock's direction.

The crazy pilot rolled his eyes in response and said, "One of these days, Boscoe. We'll get you in the air."

"Yeah, on a cold day in hell," B.A. shot back causing Hannibal and Face to snicker. Murdoch just shook his head, opening his mouth to retort.

"You won't have to get anywhere near the air, B.A.," Hannibal got there first, "Promise."

"Heard that before," B.A. replied, his mind flashing back to their last mission before they became convicts.

"So are we all agreed?" Hannibal asked, looking at each man. Normally, it wouldn't be a question, but Face was right. There still was a chance he been blindsided. After Baghdad, Hannibal took deep consideration into all possibilities. He wasn't willing to risk the others with so many unknown variables.

Face seemed to consider for a moment before sighing, shaking his head, and saying, "What the hell, I'm in."

"You can count on me, Bossman," came Murdock's typical, loyal reply.

"Yeah, me too," replied B.A. simply.

"Good," said Hannibal, "Then let's get started."

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><p>They made their move at 20:00 hours. Crouching in the old sewer line, Hannibal and Face made their forward, fingers unconsciously wrapped on their triggers. They both knew this was the easiest part of the plan and the part most crucial to timing. As they passed a large, stinking pile of something on the ground Face grimaced.<p>

"Why is it," he whined, letting off some steam, "I always end up in the sewers?"

"Would you rather be in the van with B.A.?" Hannibal countered, humoring the younger man. Face snorted.

"Nooo," he replied, "No way."

Per usual, the team's crazy pilot had gotten his revenge by finding just the right buttons to push on their resident mechanic. This time, he had managed to sneak under the van underside intent to perform some "aerodynamically favorable" tinkering. Though he hadn't really done anything, touching B.A.'s girl was equivalent to suicide on a good day. It had taken an both order from Hannibal and Face's involvement to pull the large man away from the squirrely pilot. The rest of prep time was full of dark mutterings and even darker looks between the pair.

"I value keeping my limbs intact for another couple years at least," Face added jokingly. Hannibal smiled briefly before his expression turned serious.

"Where are you planning to look first?" he asked, returning their focus to the mission at hand.

"I figure they'll want to keep her as isolated but as accessible as possible," Face responded, glancing behind him out of habit, "So I'll start in some of the first floor and work my way up."

"Good," replied Hannibal, "Just remember we're on a time limit, kid."

"Yeah, I know," Face sounded slightly annoyed at the admonishment, but he wasn't. The pair had made it to their destination and he was getting into game-face mode.

"B.A., Murdock," he heard Hannibal call over both the comm and beside him, "We're in place."

Face could hear a slight rumble over the comm which he assumed was B.A. revving the van's engine.

"Good to go, Bossman," Murdock's reply came over the system.

"Ready, kid?" asked Hannibal.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Face responded, pushing his gun to the side and clambering up onto the ladder. He made it to the top, one arm bracing him on the ladder while grabbing hold of his semi automatic. The other arm was braced against the man-hole covering, read to push up at Hannibal's signal.

Based the intel they had from the blueprint, the manhole they had come was located in an large storage room on the far side of the warehouse. Based on its distance from the entrance, they were sure no one would be guarding it. Once through, Hannibal had two minutes to make it across the building and provide B.A. with back-up at the gate. If everything went according to plan, the pair would pin the kidnappers outside or at the entrance for fifteen minutes (twenty on the outside), giving Face time to make a fast search of the warehouse's three floors.

"Go," said Hannibal and Face heaved against the cover. The metal groaned then scraped sharply against the concrete floor. Head went up, checking the perimeter. No one was in sight.

Scrambling up the rest of the ladder, Face bee-lined for the south door. He only had one real destination in mind for the first floor. Pausing as he reached the door, he listened to make sure no one was on the other side. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hannibal doing the same at the north door. Nodding to each other, they push their way through to their respect exits.

Gunfire echoed in the hallway around Face. The first floor was composed of two parallel halls with one hall connecting the two, bisecting an otherwise building-wide factory floor. Sound carried well in the unobstructed sets of stairwells sat at the east and south side of the building while main and truck entrance took up the other two walls. A small broom closet was located near the south stairwell. That was Face's first destination. While he didn't think they'd stow the kid there, it was at least worth a look. The sound of footsteps climbing down stairs brought his run to a halt.

Ducking quickly into the second warehouse space, he peaked out the sliver of open door. Two men, wearing covert black uniforms, appeared from the direction of the stairwell. Face held his breath as they passed, griping his semi-auto just a little tighter. The men didn't seem to notice him as they drew a pair of Sigs and continued in the direction of gunfire.

"Hey, boss, " Face called on the comm as they passed, "You got some heat on your tail."

He received no answer except in impossible increase in the volume of gunfire and some rough yells. Busting out of the room, he headed instinctively towards the sounds, filled with a strong desire to protect his team. Only a quick flicker of insight stopped him mid-stride. Hannibal was certain to have expected something. The colonel was obsessed, bordering on anal, with having a contingency for everything. Besides, Face was no good to the girl if he was dead.

"Fuck!" he breathed in frustration, turning around and heading for the stairwell. The appearance of the men meant two things. One, the girl was probably hidden on one of the upper floors. Two, Hannibal's timeline had just been cut in half. He took the stairs two at a time.

"Lindsey!" he yelled as he reached the second floor landing. Based on the blueprints, he knew that this floor was mainly offices set just below a third open space on the third floor. If the kid was here, the second floor was the best place to hide her.

"Lindsey!" he yelled again, running down the corridor. Most of the offices on the floor were left open and partially lit, making it easy to look inside. As he turned the corner, he thought he heard a whimper.

"Lindsey?"

The attack came fast and from behind. Another man dressed in covert black burst from the darkened room behind face. The ex-Ranger had just enough time to turn and grab the man's arm, preventing him from plunging a knife into his back. The man's weight and momentum pushed him back causing them both to fall against the wall.

"Get off me!" he grunted, using all his strength to keep the knife away. The pair struggled for a minute until Face managed to find his a shove, he managed to push the man off of him, sending him sprawling back. Catching his balance, however, the man leaned forward and charged again. Without thinking, Face squeezed the trigger twice.

Pop! Pop!

The man crumpled to the floor mid-charge. Breathing heavily, Face approached the body and kicked the knife out of the corpse's hand. Moving towards the room the man had come from, he patted the walls on either side of the door until he found a light switch. The room was an office just like the others. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he turned away. He was running out of time and he was certain now the girl was here. As he turned from the room, a glint in the corner caught his. Pausing, he looked back in, this time leaning into the room. Another door lay next to the one he stood in. Cautiously he stepped into the room. The gunfire below still sounded, though muted through layer of wood and concrete. A different sound took precedence over it. Listening carefully, Face was almost sure it was crying.

"Lindsey?" he called out softly. There came a hitch in the noise and then the sound of a sob. That clinched it. Grabbing the doorknob, Face found it unlocked. Wrenching the door open, he froze at the sight before him.

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><p>A.N. Ha ha, cliffy. mwahahahahaaa. No worries though, the next chapter will be up soon. Again, I hope this wasn't too ooc (some of the character's voices are harder for me to get then others). Anway, hope you enjoyed it so far.<p> 


	3. Route 66

"Hey, kiddo," Face said, snapping back to himself, "We've been looking all over for you."

Pushing his gun to the side, he kneeled down in front of the terrified girl. She looked relatively unharmed given her surroundings, save for a pair of hand shaped bruises on her forearms. Her right knee was scratched up also, surrounded by a ragged hole in the leg of her ballet tights. Her face was tear-stained and her hair looked like it could use washing. Belatedly, Face realized her right hand was cuffed to the pipe coming off of the toilet. As he moved towards her, she huddled into a tighter ball in the space between the bowl and the wall. Face felt his jaw tighten as he fought to maintain a friendly expression. There were some lines you just didn't cross, especially with a kid.

"Listen," he said, lifting his hands up to show her he wasn't going to hurt her, "Your dad sent me here to find you, sweetie. Me and my team, we're here to take you home."

At his words, the girl lifted her head up. The look she gave him could be described as suspicious at best.

"Y-you don't look like a policeman," she mumbled softly. Face grinned. The kid was smarter then he had been at her age.

"That's because I'm not," he admitted, moving a little closer. Immediately she tightened into an impossibly smaller ball, forcing him to stop, "I served with your dad in Iraq."

It was a half truth, considering he had never met the man. But Hannibal had assured the group he was a fellow soldier and the kid didn't need things complicated for her. A small sniff came from the girl's direction.

"You're a Ranger?" she asked, her voice incredibly soft.

"Yeah," Face replied, grasping at what straws he could, "Do you want to see my tattoo?"

The body art must have given her a small sense of familiarity, because she looked up at him. Wipping her nose and eyes with the back of her hand, she nodded. Face approached her, slowly rolling up his shirt sleeve till the tattoo was little girl stared at it, eyes widening.

"Are you going to take me home?" she asked, uncurling slowly.

"You bet, sweetie," Face replied, "I'll make sure you get home safe. But first we got to get those handcuffs off you."

He leaned over her, grabbing hold of her cuffed hand. She stiffened at his touch, drawing a deep breath, but didn't pull away. He worked quickly and it wasn't long before he had her in his arms and was running for the door.

"Hannibal, I've go her," he reported over the comm, "Murdock, get ready."

"Roger, will do, good sir," a British accent sounded in his ear.

"Nice job, Face," Hannibal's voice came back in reply, "B.A., time to let up on our distraction."

"Just as long as this isn't a repeat of Baghdad,' muttered B.A. darkly.

The rest of the team's communication was drowned out as Lindsey suddenly threw her arms around Face's neck. He realized he had barely noticed the kid's weight despite the fact she was ten years old. Pushing observation aside, he sprinted for the stairwell. Below him, gunfire erupted loudly again causing Lindsey to gasp and shiver.

"We're almost there, kiddo," Face tried reassuring her, "Don't worry. i won't let anything happen to you."

He made it to the roof just as Murdock was landing. Covering Lindsey's head, he ducked under the copter's blades and opened the doors. Placing the girl in the seat, he buckled her in before closing them again and getting in the copilot seat.

"Let's go, buddy," he yelled over the headset.

The crazy pilot didn't need telling twice. With the flick of a switch, he pulled the bird into the air and began heading to the rendezvous point. Face hazard a quick glance over his shoulder at the little girl. She looked shaken. He considered reaching back and patting her on the knee, but decided against it. The kid would probably freak on him. He liked to think he was good with kids, but situation was well past his league.

"She's safe, Face," Murdock's voice sounded in his ear. He looked over to see the pilot's gaze split between him and the air, "We did good."

Face nodded.

"Yeah, buddy," he replied, "We did do good."

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><p>Everyone managed to make it back to the rendezvous point in relative safety. Picking Lindsey up, Face followed behind Murdock to the van. As they approached, the vehicle's doors flew open revealing Hannibal sans cigar in his mouth. Face felt Lindsey stiffen in his arms just before she started to cry.<p>

"Hey, hey," Face said, looking over at her, "What is it? Don't worry, kiddo. This is my team. They helped me get you out of there."

He glanced over at Hannibal as he babbled on, begging for help. The colonel simply stared at him and the girl, apparently taken-aback by her reaction. In all honesty, none of the four men had much in the way of experience when it came to crying children. Even Murdock had jumped back slightly at her outburst.

"Lizzy...Lindsey," sputtered Face uncomfortably, "What's is it? What's wrong?"

"W-where's my d-daddy?" the little girl sobbed.

"Oh, oh, I know this one. I know this one," Murdock yelled, jumping up excitedly. Face shot him a look to shut up, but the shout had made the crying suddenly stop. In fact, Lindsey was now staring at Murdock as if she didn't know what to make of him, which in all fairness was a look every member of the team had given the crazy man at some point.

"He's at your house waiting for you," Murdock continued, pointing at her, "And B.A. there in the van's gonna drive you to him."

"We'll keep you safe," Face added in what he hoped was a comforting manner, " Promise. These guys, they've all got tattoos just like mine and your dad's."

Again, the mention of the tattoo seemed to calm the girl. She gave Face a slight, almost imperceptible nod and wrapped her arms around his neck again. The lieutenant shot his commanding officer a quick grin and carried the girl to the van.

"Nice work, Face," said Hannibal as he helped him load the girl into the van. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lindsey shoot B.A. a warry glance before here eyes closed again.

_Poor kid must be exhausted, _Face though, shocked he hadn't realized it before. Gently, he placed her in the seat, making sure to buckle her in tight. Then swinging in behind Hannibal, he took the seat next to her.

"No cigar?" he asked, glancing back at his boss.

"Not around the kid," Hannibal replied, "At least not right now."

Face nodded in understanding. Looking over at the little girl, he saw she had passed out the moment she'd been put in the seat. Slightly worried, he leaned over to check her pulse. It was as steady as her breathing. As he suspected, she was simply exhausted.

"Where to now?" asked B.A., looking back through the rear view mirror.

"Let's drive a few hours," said Hannibal, "Just to make sure no one followed us."

B.A. nodded, revving up the engine. Murdoch muttered something about a road less traveled by before belting out Route 66 lyrics. Hannibal pulled opened and began checking the van's road map. Face could only stare in amazement as none of the team's unusually loud movement did nothing to wake up the sleeping girl in the back seat.

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><p>A.N. : So cute, not cute? No worries, the constant crying will abate and then the fun can begin. Mwahahahahahaaaa. Thanks everyone for their reviews so far.<p> 


	4. Introductions

It was the sound of a car door slamming that finally woke her. Blinking blearily, it took Lindsey a moment to realize she wasn't laying against a hard wall or a thin blanket. She was in a car seat and there were people talking in front of her. Turning her head, she grimaced at the twitch in her neck like the kind she got when she fell asleep on a long car ride. Her right wrist, however, felt better than it had in days. Looking around, her eyes fell on two men in seats in front of her.

"I'm telling you he becomes an alien at the end," said the first. He looked familiar to Lindsey. Immediately, her mind flashed to the night before. This was the man who had rescued her.

"Yer crazy, Face," replied the other, with a southern drawl, "Look, you can't turn into an alien. He died at the end."

"You can't turn into an alien?," her rescuer sounded incredulous, "That was point of the entire movie!"

"Can I go to the bathroom?" Lindsey asked aloud, suddenly aware that she had to go. Face and Murdock jumped at the sound, looking back at her in surprise. The girl had slept through most of the night and early morning. In fact, Face had been almost certain they'd have her back to her father before she woke up. Now she was looking at them with her legs crossed and an apprehensive look on her face. Glancing at each other, the men seemed to debate their answer

"Sure th-" Murdock started, deciding to take the lead, when Face interrupted him.

"Do you think you can hold it a little longer?" he asked. B.A. had already left to fill the van with gas and Hannibal was off giving Captain Barclay a call. Three or four men piling out of van was one thing but if there was a little girl in torn ballet tights with them. It wasn't as if they could write her off as a relative, either. None of the four men shared her white blond hair or grey blue eyes. The situation could become real awkward real fast.

Lindsey looked as though she were going to say no, but seemed to think better of it. Nodding, she tightened her legs together and pulled her knees up closer to her in the seat. The movement bothered Face. The kid still hadn't lost the apprehensive look on her face and she was far too compliant.

"You don't have to be scared, Lindsey," he said, turning in the seat to face her, "We're the good guys."

"You said you were going to take me home," the girl mumbled back and Face felt a stab of guilt. He had promised they were taking her to her father, but Hannibal had wanted to be sure they weren't followed.

"We will," he promised, "We just had to stop for gas."

An awkward silence filled the van. Lindsey looked up at each man and then quickly looked away. Memories from the night before began to flooded her mind. There had been four men originally. Where had the other two gone? You didn't need two people to get gas, did you? The one who had picked her up had had a Ranger tattoo, just like her dad. He had said the others did too. Dad had always told her she could trust a Ranger.

"C-can I see your tattoo?" she asked, trying to calm herself. Again, both men gave her a strange look.

"Yeah," said her rescuer, looking over at the other man, the pilot, "Murdock."

The pilot looked confused for a second, but followed his friend's lead. Rolling up their sleeves, they showed Lindsey their matching tattoos.

"See," said Face, still not liking the look on the little girl's face, "We're weren't lying. We're just getting the van some gas and Hannibal's calling your dad to tell him we're bringing you home."

"Why didn't you just take me there?" Lindsey asked cautiously.

"Well, you see," Murdock interjected, starting to get a handle on the situation, "Hannibal thought those guys in black were gonna follow us. He didn't want them getting you, so he had B.A. drive all night. You never can trust people wearing only one color, you know."

Again, Lindsey looked at him as though she didn't know what to say. Then, almost self-consciously, she looked down at her own clothing. Face caught the look and threw his own dirty one at Murdock. Granted, the girl looked a little more relaxed, but now she she was probably afraid of offending them.

"What he means is, Lindsey," he said, trying to rectify the situation, "We were throwing a false trail for the men who took you. So they wouldn't know where we were taking you. But I think we lost them now."

He gave her a quick, and he hoped, reassuring wink. Lindsey looked as if she wanted to ask something more, but no words came out. While Face wasn't a fan of dime-store psychology, he knew on an instinctive level he had to keep the girl talking until they got her to her father.

"Do you remember what happened to you?" he asked cautiously. Lindsey nodded.

"I was in the bathroom changing in my ballet tights," she said, "Mrs. Morris is always in a hurry on Wednesdays and I didn't want her to be late. So I was changing before class. T-the janitor knocked and asked if anyone was there. When I came out of the stall, someone threw a bag over my head. The next thing I knew I was in the b-bath..."

"It's okay," Face interrupted, seeing she was getting upset, "We get the picture."

A glint of sanity in Murdock's eyes, told him the pilot was getting just as angry as he was. It took a real lack of something to grab a kid from a school. School was a place a kid should be safe, even if they hated being there.

"How long has my dad been looking for me?" Lindsey said, her voice wavering on the point of tears.

Before Face could answer, the van's door roared open. Hannibal took in the scene in front of him for half a second before turning his attention to the girl.

"Miss Barclay," he said, ignoring the look of startled, semi-terror on the girl's face, "Good to see your awake. I'm Hannibal Smith. Your father hired me to find you and bring you home."

He offered the girl his hand and Face was struck by how comical the situation appeared. Hannibal clearly had little experience with children and the fact the girl was suffering from some kind of shock wasn't helping. Lindsey, however, seemed to take it all in stride and timidly took the older man's hand. Her small hands looked, if possibly, smaller in the Colonel's large ones.

"You already know Face and Murdock...," he said as the driver door opened.

"Get out of here you crazy fool," B.A.'s voice sounded behind her. Lindsey turned to see the pilot, Murdock, stand up in a crouch a move back to the seat next to her. A large black man with a mohawk took his place.

"And that's B.A., our...wheel-man." Hannibal finished. The man in the driver seat glanced back at them, giving Lindsey a quick smile and a nod.

"I just called your father," Hannibal continued, "He'll be glad to have you home."

Face looked up, glancing at Hannibal questioningly. There was something in the colonel's tone as he spoke. He almost sounded worried. Hannibal, however, wasn't giving any answers. Getting in behind the girl, he took a seat comfortably in the back.

"Let's go, B.A.," he ordered and Lindsey felt the engine rumble beneath her. Out of habit, she reached for the seat-belt, realizing belatedly that she was already buckled in.

"Before we get her home, boss," she heard Face say as he turned to reach for his own buckle, "I think we need to make a quick stop."

He shot her a quick smile over his shoulder. A warm feeling spread through her shoulders at the smile. Though she didn't understand why, she believed the men were telling her the truth. She was going home. The edges of her lips twitched up slightly as she gave Face a tentative grin. Hannibal shot his second-in-command his own questioning look before shrugging and nodding to B.A..

As the van pulled out of the gas station, Murdock turned to her and asked, "So what did you think of 'District 9'?"

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><p>A.N. Cookies are available to everyone who reviews. :)<p> 


	5. Messages

The phone rang for the second time that day. Once, twice, three times and then:

"You've reached the Barclay residence. We're not home right now. So please, leave your name, number, a brief message and we'll call you back."

A child's laugh, sounding faintly in the background, was quickly cut off at the beep. A second later a deep male voice echoed over the phone line.

"Captain Barclay, this is Colonel Smith. We found Lindsey, alive. We're bringing her home; e.t.a 02:00 hours."

Footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty hallway. A man appeared from the direction of the living room, quietly crossing the wooden floor towards the table holding answering machine. He paused a moment, studying the machine carefully. Then, almost lovingly, he pressed the play button.

"One new message," a male voice played, "June 9, 2011 at 10: 32 a.m."

"Captain Barclay," Hannibal's voice sounded once again, "This is Colonel Smith. We found Lindsey, a-"

The man hit the pause button. Without looking behind him, he motioned towards the living room. There was a sound of shuffling, something being dragged, a loud thud, and a grunt of pain. The man at the answering machine turned, staring at the floor in mild curiosity. Captain Barclay stared right back at him.

"Well, that sounds promising," the man remarked, glancing machine again, "Does that fill you with relief, Michael?"

He hit the rewind button for half a second and let go.

"...is Colonel Smith. We found Lindsey, a-"

The buzz of rewound message.

"Colonel Smith. We found Lindsey, a-"

Another rewind.

"-olonel Smith. We found Lindsey."

"-nel Smith, We fou-"

"Stop!" Captain Barclay grunted. The retired Army Ranger propped himself up as much as he could to glare at the man in front of him. His face was swollen and sore, but he probably looked better then he felt. Without his chair, he was immobile; reliant on the pair of men under his tormentor's command for movement. Of course, that was when they weren't trying to pummel his face while his hands were tied behind his back.

"But I thought you'd want to hear the good news," the man replied un-phased, "Who's Smith?"

"A criminal," Barclay coughed, tasting copper in his mouth, "Just like you."

"I highly doubt that," the other man replied, "We had an arrangement, Michael."

"You said no cops," said Barclay sarcastically, "Smith and his team aren't cops."

"It was implied you and Sandra were not to get help of any kind," the man responded as though speaking to a belligerent child. He moved towards the fallen man, squatting down till they were face to face.

"Understand this, Michael," he said, pronouncing every word, "You will never be with your daughter again."


	6. A Quick Stop

"B.A., turn in here," Face said, pointing towards a mostly abandoned rest stop. They had been on the road for about half an hour now and Lindsey was beginning to fidget. Not that her fidgeting was obvious really, except to someone who read body language for a living. B.A. glanced over at the conman and then over his shoulder. Without a word, he flicked on his turn signal and steered towards the exit.

The van's sudden movement startled Hannibal from his reverie. Looking up, he saw Face directing B.A. towards a small building and grass marooned in the middle of a parking lot. The time table he'd given Barclay had, of course, accounted for stops to take care of the girl, but he had hoped they wouldn't be necessary. His contact, or lack thereof, with Barclay at the gas station was still gnawing at him. There were a number of logical reasons why the captain hadn't answered his calls or had yet to respond to the good news. None of them felt convincing to him yet. All he wanted was to deliver the girl and get his team out safely.

As the van came to a stop, Face smoothly exited the vehicle and pulled the passenger side door open. He ignored the slight jump Lindsey gave at the sound.

"My Lady," he said in a mock-British accent, offering a hand out with a slight bow, "May I escort you from your carriage?"

He hoped the act would get the girl to trust him a little more. Women, well girls at any rate, loved the whole prince charming thing, right? After all, that was the theme every Disney movie since the dawn of time had played on. Prince charming existed, step-parents were evil, and he had more experience with the former then the later.

To his surprise, Lindsey instead just gave him a look like the ones she had given Murdock. Maybe he had laid on the accent to thick. Did they even have accents in Disney movies? It had been years since he'd actually sat through one. He watched as Lindsey cautiously jumped down from the van. For a second, she looked ready to bolt and once again he had the distinct impression she didn't trust them.

"Face," came Hannibal sounding slightly exasperated from the back, "Quit fooling around. We're on a schedule."

He heard B.A. chuckle slightly at the comment and shot him a dirty look.

"Yes, sir," he responded sarcastically, closing the door behind him. Looking down at Lindsey he held his arm out in front of him and said, "After you, my lady."

Lindsey looked up at her rescuer somewhat in awe. This was the first time in, a week they said, she'd been allowed to go somewhere where she wasn't being dragged or carried. Standing up on the tippy-toes, she could just see over the hood of the van. She was certain she recognized this place. Walking forward, she headed towards the building at the center of the grass island. She felt herself tense as she saw her rescuer follow behind her.

The closer the pair came to the building, the more familiar the place felt. It was the rest stop a few exits away from her home. She remembered stopping here once with her parents, when they were together. It had been one of the last times she'd seen her dad without his wheelchair. As they turned towards the women's restroom, she began to slow down till she was walking next to Face.

"Everything alright?" he asked, looking down at her. Lindsey glanced up at him and back at the approaching door. She bit her lip nervously, debating whether she should say something or not. If it had been her father, he would have told her to brave and he'd have her back. But her rescuer (the others called him Face which was the dumbest sounding name she'd heard) wasn't her dad.

"C-Can you watch the door?" she asked. It took Face a moment to realize what was wrong. Patting her softly on the shoulder, he nodded.

"Don't worry," he said, for what felt like the millionth time that day, "No one's going to get you. Not again."

Lindsey stopped, looking at him for a long time. There was something slightly unnerving about her stare. Face found himself reminded with one of the reasons he didn't like dealing with children too often. They were hard too fool for an extended period of time. Finally, Lindsey blinked, looking away. With a deep breath, she stepped away from him, moving slowly towards the bathroom door.

* * *

><p>"What's going on, boss?" B.A. asked the moment Face and Lindsey had walked from the van.<p>

At B.A.'s question, Murdock tilted his cap back away from his eyes. Since he wasn't allowed to fly the group to the girl's home, his part of the job was for all intents and purposes finished. Time to sit back, relax, and leave the driving to someone else. But even with his eyes closed and hidden under his hat, he could hear the worry in Hannibal's voice. Leaning forward, he shot his commanding officer an equally questioning look.

Hannibal looked up, trading looks between his pilot and mechanic. With a sigh, he folded up the road map he had been skimming and a pulled a cigar out from a side pocket. He consider his answer as he lit it.

"I haven't been able to reach Captain Barclay," he admitted finally. He waited as the pair took his word in consideration.

"You sure he wasn't with his wife, boss-man?" asked Murdock.

"Ex," amended B.A.. Hannibal had informed them all of Barclay's situation. Hannibal smirked.

"First thing I considered, Murdock," Hannibal replied, "But that wasn't the impression I got from him. He'd be at the phone until he knew the mission was over."

"Maybe it is a trap," B.A. offered.

"That's one elaborate trap, then," Murdock replied, glancing in B.A.'s direction.

"Another consideration," said Hannibal, puffing thoughtfully on the cigar, " Right now I'd say our best option, though, is to go with the plan as is. B.A., when we get to the Barclay residence, I want you to stay in the van. If something goes wrong I want to be able to make a quick exit. Murdock," a gleam had settled in the pilot's eyes, "Keep an eye out for trouble."

"You can count on me, boss-man," Murdock replied enthusiastically.

"He can count on you to see things that aren't there," B.A. muttered, half-sarcastically.

"One time, Bosco," Murdock shot back, glaring at the corporeal, "One time and we got the dosage fixed...mostly."

"Mostly?" B.A. exclaimed, "Mostly? I think you need to check your dosage again if all you can give us is a 'mostly', fool."

"B.A., relax," Hannibal interrupted, hiding a laugh. He was glad to see the pair were taking the news better then expected. It had been nine months since they broken out of custody a second time. Not a day had gone by when one of them hadn't looked over his shoulder in case the DOD, CIA, or someone else descended on them. They'd even taken to insisting their clients go through elaborate screening measures before meeting with them and they never stayed in one place for long. Barclay's lack of response was more then enough to set up alarms for all of them.

"Let's just get the job done," he finished, spotting Face and Lindsey out the front window. The girl looked a little paler then when she left, but she was now holding Face's hand, "There's a little girl who needs to get home."

* * *

><p>A.N.: Thanks to everyone for the reviews so far. Sorry for the late update. Hopefully, I'll be able to add more soon!<p> 


	7. Trap

The Barclay residence was a small, single level house on the outskirts of Las Vegas.

"B.A., make another turn around the block," ordered Hannibal as the van drew closer to the building. He still couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched.

Behind him, Face rolled his eyes. _I could be making out with a showgirl now,_ he thought, glancing down at his watch, _or a waitress, or a cute blond at a craps table. _Of course, that was dependent on Hannibal deciding it was safe to stay in the city for a night or two. Thankfully, the news broadcasts with their pictures had diminished lately, taking a backseat to some celebrity's drama the farther west they moved._  
><em>

"You know there is such a thing as being too cautious, Hannibal," he said aloud, finally venting his annoyance, "We've made, what, three turns around the block? Let get this kid home already."

"Face," admonished Hannibal, scanning a small, four-door sedan parked on the edge of the street as they passed, "How many times have I told you? Patience is everything. You can't go into a situation like this half-cocked."

"Whose going half-cocked?" Face responded, "If we keep going around the block like this, we'll be the ones who start looking suspicious."

"Relax, Faceman," interjected Murdock, patting his friend on the shoulder, "It could be worse."

"Really," replied Face, looking over at the pilot with a bemused expression, "How?"

"Man, don't encourage him," said B.A., watching the pair out of the rear-view mirror. He recognized the grin slowly making its way across the crazy man's face.

"Well," Murdock continued, not willing to disappoint, "You could be in a hotel room with no memory of how you got there. And B.A. could be missing a tooth."

"What?" exclaimed B.A., "Why would I be a missing a tooth, fool?"

"Cause Face bet you you couldn't hit yourself hard enough to knock it out," Murdock replied brightly. B.A.'s eyes narrowed in the reflection of the mirror.

"And what makes you think I wouldn't just knock out all of your teeth, fool?" He growled, already half-afraid of the answer.

"Naw, cause I'd be on the roof," Murdock replied, glad to see the big guy was being so receptive to one of his rants, "Nothing but sky, sun, and imagining the beautiful woman I'm about to marry."

Before B.A. could mutter something about the mental state of anyone willing to tie themselves in matrimony with the pilot, however, Hannibal interrupted him, "Alright, men, let's get this over with."

Instantly, the mood in the van changed. B.A. steered the vehicle across to street coming to a stop on the curb in front of Lindsey's house. Considering the area and time of day, Hannibal had decided they were to go in lightly armed. Pistols and any weapon which could be easily concealed were quickly checked as he, Face, and Murdock climbed out of the van.

"Wha's going on?" Lindsey asked sleepily, jolting awake at the sound of the door opening.

"It's time to go home, Miss Barclay," said Hannibal, helping the girl out of the back. Lindsey blinked in the afternoon sun and then her eyes grew wide as her eyes fell on her home. _Was this real?_ she wondered to herself. Her gazed wandered up towards Hannibal, then over to Face, and finally to Murdock as he came around the van. The pilot smiled warmly down at her.

"If you'll come with me," Hannibal ordered, taking her hand briskly. The A-team leader prided himself on being able to plan for almost any and all situations. Children, however, had never been his strong suit. Life as a career military man had long ago diminished his ability to interact naturally with anyone under the age of sixteen.

Lindsey looked up at the tall man nervously. She judged him to be at least twice as tall as her dad. He hadn't spoken much on the trip, but when he did she'd listened. There was something intimidating about him. At the same time, though, she had the sense he wasn't a bad person.

As the four made their way towards the house, Lindsey glanced back at the van. The driver, the others called him B.A., was watching them from the front seat with a pair of binoculars. The eye gear seemed slightly ridiculous to the ten year old. Her front yard was big, but it wasn't that big. Turning around, she tried to hold back the urge to run to the quickly approaching door. For one, she didn't think she could run fast enough to drag Hannibal from his steady pace. Second, there was no chance she'd be able to wiggle free of his iron grip.

At the same time Lindsey's excitement was growing so was Hannibal's tension. He would have expected some sign of life from the house by now. The door opening, a flutter in the curtains, anything to show Captain Barclay was there waiting for his daughter. Coming to a stop at the door, he gave a quick nod to Face. The lieutenant backed up slipping away around to the other side of the house. Murdock tensed behind him.

Reaching up, he gave the door a quick rap and called out, "Captain Barclay, it's Hannibal Smith."

Lindsey felt something like a pit sink to the bottom of her stomach. She recognized the tone in Hannibal's voice. It was one she had head her dad use only once and it wasn't for anything good. Without asked for permission, Lindsey reached over and knocked loudly.

"Dad?" she called out, realizing it was strange that he hadn't come to the door yet, "Daddy, it's Lindsey."

Hannibal and Murdock exchanged a look above her head. Squatting down, Murdock gently tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey, Lindsey," he asked when she looked at him with a bewildered expression on her face, "Did your dad ever tell you about any super secret hiding places he had for a spare key?"

Lindsey swallowed, thought for a moment, then shook her head. Murdock frowned, looking up at Hannibal for advice. The situation was deteriorating quickly and neither man liked the direction it was taking.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," Face's voice sounded behind them as the conman came around the corner.

"This is not good, Bossman," said Murdock, standing up. He noticed that Hannibal had let go of Lindsey's hand and took up the slack by taking her other one. The girl was looking between all three of them and occasionally at the door. It wasn't hard for him to imagine just what she was feeling.

"Face," said Hannibal after a moment's hesitation, "Do you think you can pick that lock in under a minute?"

Face leaned past him, giving the door knob a cursory glance.

"I don't know," he responded, half-sarcastically, "This isn't your standard house lock. But I could probably manage it."

"Good," said Hannibal, looking at his watch, "You've got forty-five seconds. Starting now."

Rolling his eyes, Face pulled out the spare lock picks he always kept in his pocket. He knew something like this was going to happen eventually. It was next to impossible for one Hannibal's plans to go completely smooth. Still thinking about all the places in the city he would rather be then there, he set to work.

"Murdock," continued Hannibal, turning his attention to the pilot and the little girl, "Please take Miss Barclay back to the van an-"

"What?" Lindsey's exclamation drowned out the last of his sentence, "But I thought you said you were taking me home."

Hannibal glanced down at the girl. It was obvious she was scared and confused by what was happening. At the same time, the look in her eyes told him that she would fight, scream, and draw all the unwanted attention necessary to stay near the house.

"That's what we want to do, Miss Barclay," he said calmly, "But we can't do that if it's not safe for you. Do you understand?"

Lindsey looked at him for a moment and nodded.

"Good," said Hannibal, giving her what he hoped it was a reassuring smile, "Then please, go with the captain."

He held a hand out towards Murdock. Lindsey followed his gesture to look at the man who was still holding her hand. Murdock smirked down at her.

"Come on," he said excitedly, "I could always use an extra hand in bugging B.A."

Hannibal and Face exchanged a bemused look as Lindsey's eyes moved from Murdock to the van and back to Murdock again. Looking at the pilot dubiously, she cautiously followed him off the porch. When her back was turned, Face's expression slipped into a frown. He had known something was wrong after Hannibal had gotten back in the van after their first stop. He could also tell from Hannibal's tone with Lindsey and his silence now, that Barclay's apparent absence didn't surprise him.

Returning his attention back to the lock, he promised himself to have a talk with Hannibal when this was over. He understood the Colonel's need to keep some details on a need-to-know basis, but he couldn't keep everything secret. Face knew from experience that the team worked best when everyone was on relatively equal footing. As for the lock, he was surprised to see one so sensitive given the neighborhood they were. Sensitivity, however, meant little against someone with his skills. Forty seconds later, there came an unusually loud, unsettling click.

"Oh shit," he exclaimed, jumping up and away from the door, " Hannibal, run!"

Everything went to hell in seconds. One moment the pair were jumping away from the porch in a dead sprint towards the van. The next, an explosion from behind slammed them to the ground. Face groaned as he felt hands grab him about the shoulders. He could barely make out B.A.'s voice above him over the ringing of his ears. Looking up, he saw the big guy's attention was split between him and Hannibal.

"Face...Face, Can you walk?"

B.A.'s question was muffled but at least intelligible. Waving him off, Face groaned again as he pushed himself up to his elbows. Nothing felt broken. Struggling to his feet, he glanced over at Hannibal. The colonel hadn't been so lucky. Though he was still conscious, the A-team leader was leaning heavily on B.A.. Looking up towards the van, Face could see Murdock standing in front of the van's side door trying to block Lindsey's view of the house.

"Face," Hannibal voice came in clear right next to his ear, making him jump. His neck twinged at the movement. Turning back, he saw Hannibal was looking at him with concern.

"Let's get out of here," Hannibal ordered. He watched as the focus snapped back into his second-in-command's eyes. All around them the neighborhood was erupting into chaos. People were coming out of their homes. Cars alarms close to the blast blared loudly. The heat rolling off the burning house was almost palpable.

As quickly as they could, the three shuffled their way to the van. Murdock joined them as they reached the curb, taking hold of Hannibal's other side. Together, he and B.A. lifted Hannibal into one of the back seats.

"Watch his leg, fool," B.A. growled when the pilot reached down to lift the colonel's leg into the vehicle.

"Easy, B.A." said Hannibal, holding back a grimace as he pulled the leg in himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lindsey sitting on the floor behind him. The front passenger door opened and Face pulled himself into the van. B.A. jumped into the driver seat, giving Murdock just enough time to get in on Hannibal's side before tearing away from the curb and into the sun-dulled streets of Las Vegas.

* * *

><p>A.N.: Yeah, I'm gonna go to hell for this chapter *ducks behind B.A."<p> 


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